Uncertainty
by kwityerbeliaken
Summary: Experiences concerning Thresh and his childhood friend, Gilliad. Yaoi, m/, rated M possibly for later chappies. Unrequited Set before, during and possibly after the 74th annual Hunger Games.
1. Admitting

Thresh and his MALE childhood friend, before during, and maybe AFTER the 74th annual Hunger Games. Unrequited love, one of my more cleaner fics. Hopefully it'll get dirty c: I wanna make it dirty. But purity is kinda sexy in it's own way. I just finally got into Hunger Games and read the books so... please enjoy!

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A strong, broad back floods into my vision, covered by the thin of a tattered, white shirt that could easily have passed off as a dish rag. I couldn't care less about the condition of that work shirt, only the movements the taller body in front of me made as it works quickly and determinedly, scraping away at the dried ground with a crescent shaped blade that easily swipes through stems of golden wheat. I bend down to pick each hearty plant up, placing it in the large, handwoven basket that slings over my arm. It's a hot, dry day, in between Spring and Summer no doubt, and the way white cloth clings to darkened skin in front of me is mesmerizing.

**"Gill, slow your roll. You keep bumping into me."** rumbles a slightly perturbed Thresh, turning his neatly shaved head over in my direction, brow creasing in annoyance. I skitter out an apology and keep my space from then on, knowing that it's near the end of our shift, and he's grumpy and tired from the busy work that would earn him a meager pay. My shaggy, shortened hair is a lighter color than that of the wheat, a shining blond. My skin is lightly tanned if anything from working out in the fields, lacking deep in comparison to the dark brown of Thresh's form. But that didn't mean a thing. There is no segregation here.

Four notes sound through scattered Mockingjays, and workers unanimously pick up their tools and march solemnly off the amber field. A glance toward Thresh that was meant to be secretive was caught, and I hurry on before him.

The world that we live in is the only life I knew; heavily guarded work, little food, sleep. _Hunger Games_.

But I have Thresh. We're _friends_. The name feels rancid on my tongue, and before Thresh can question the unhappy look on my face, he's once more distracted away from me, this time by his sister who's also returning from work.

He looks happy to see her, and unwarranted jealousy springs up in my stomach as I watch. Noticeably, it must be the end of the week, because nobody's singing traditional work and traveling songs. We're too tired. I walk faster, eyes peering out for the only member of my family to try and distract _me_ from such destructive feelings. It wasn't often that Thresh got along with people other then family members; he prefers solitude and doesn't like depending on others. I'm the only one disproving this theory at the moment, since we've managed to have some sort of haphazard relationship. We've known each other practically from out of the womb, and continually work together since the dawn of our farming work. He performs the tasks for me that I can't do very well, and vice versa. I can't very well say that we _complete_ each other or anything, but...

It's pretty _close_.

**"I'll see you later, Gill."** Thresh announces with a small wave and the attempt of a smile, heading off in another direction to pick up his grandmother from the garden she worked. Young and old, sick and healthy; all worked, all contributed. How else do you survive? I would've volunteered to go with him, but I could see that he would do fine on his own. Wouldn't want him to tire of me anyway.

**"Ahh, Dad!"** I call out with a burst of a smile, and get a weary flip of the head in return through the crowd of those leaving and entering work shifts. Since it was around harvest time, some workers harvested during the night. I only took the day shift because Thresh did.

**"How's the harvest going? I heard a fire started up in section 1; that's pretty rough."** says my father, same light skin, bright hazel eyes... he just has darker hair then I do, not to mention his larger build.

**"Work's fine. Yep, it took a little while to put out, 'cause it's so dry and all, and we had to pump out a bunch of water."** I kicked a pebble off the side of the dirt road, sauntering past the town square full of shops we can't afford to vacate, even with the steady flow of income we receive. Its just enough to keep us alive, though. **"And transport?"**

**"I swear, shipments get heavier and heavier."** groans my father, the worker in Transportation, lifting heavy capsules and crates of supplies that head directly to the Capitol, and in smaller quantities to the rest of Panem. I rub into his shoulder a little as we shuffle on to the place we call home, a little one bedroom house that belonged to my grandpa, and probably his grandpa. We don't have money or the means to build a new one, and it works fine; plus, it's right next to Thresh's.

Once home, my father and I wash up lightly. We make a small, thin soup of greens, accompanied with cardboard-like bread out of the grain rations for dinner. After I'm itching to see how my reoccurring project's coming along. I crouch down beside the small garden my father and I keep outside, checking what little variety of vegetables and herbs we keep, plucking a few weeds, watering generously, watching the horizon grow dark. Thresh and the rest of his small family had since returned, their splotchy windows glowed from the candlelight inside. It was around the time it began to get dark that Thresh would usually come and join me on the porch. When the birds quieted their singing and gave their voices a rest, just to hear Thresh and I chat awhile.

**"Gill?"** It takes a little while before I notice Thresh at my side, squatting down at my level, face concerned as if he's been trying to get my attention for awhile now. I stumble back and land onto the hard ground on my butt, laughing a little nervously. **"Sorry, just tending to the _garden_."** I excused, before standing up and wading over to the steps of my porch. Thresh follows.

**"It seems like you've been thinking a lot today. What about?"** he asks, with the same gentleness and maturity that he uses with his sister. It's usually the voice that makes me think he's treating me like a child. And _I'm_ older than him!

**"Work. Dad. Hu-"** Hunger Games is always on _everyone's_ mind. Bringing it up is unfair - and if you go too far with it - _taboo,_ should any surrounding Peacekeepers hear you. Of which there are many. **"You. I'm thinking about _you_."** I breathe, hands knotting in the pockets of dull, worn out corduroys, my thin, white buttoned up work shirt starts to stop clinging to me with sweat, since the southern, warm breeze blows in.

**"What about?"** repeats Thresh, this time his concerned, older brother tone clear out of his tone. Now, _that's_ better.

My eyes flicker over to meet his, no longer staying on the surrounding residential area we permeate. **"... I want to run away."** Before I mutter the last word, I know I've said something forbidden, because Thresh's eyes are wide and unfocused, and his large, dark hands suddenly clasp over my mouth.

**"Stupid! Peacekeepers are just rarin' to give out public floggings for that kind of talk."** No, he's not reprimanding my saying it. Just about where I was saying it, and who might've been around the corner to hear. His hands felt warm and guarding around my mouth, but also suffocating. I pried them off of my mouth, but still clung onto them with my own smaller hands. **"I don't want to live in a place where I have to constantly fear for your life."** I sputter, eyes peeling themselves from Thresh, dropping his hands, looking to my dirt scoured feet.

**"... Why is _my_ life so important to you?"** he asks me gingerly, almost as if he's afraid of the answer. I debate internally, before leaning back behind me, back arching around the small staircase, head plopping against the top step of the porch. **"I don't know... _I __love you_, I guess?"** I look up to gauge his reaction, but he simply rolls his eyes and huffs, as if he's heard this before.

He's still hunched over in a seated position, form looking big, strong and masculine enough to break the weak wood. I wish it did, just so he'd get hurt, and I'd get to heal him up all by myself. **"I wish you'd take these things more seriously... just saying 'I love you' like it's nothing..."** he trailed off, rubbing at his forehead. I perked up then, as if on cue, hanging on his words, moving across the board on my knees before sinking to a sitting position in back of him, hands going to soothe the tense, broad shoulders that I'd been staring at earlier. **"If I took it seriously, would you consider it? Consider me?"**

This was ridiculous talk; or maybe not so ridiculous. I was male, however lacking in that department I seemed, and Thresh was the very definition of a male. It wasn't everyday you saw two guys sharing a house... I wondered if being with another male was even _legal_. And about my feelings toward Thresh... I'm not so sure about them. We've been friends for too long, so much so that I've just only started to notice how attracted I am to him, physically.

Thresh wasn't talking, so I stopped my hand's movements, letting them slide up and over the hills of his shoulders before wrapping around his chest, chin sinking against his right shoulder in a nervy embrace. When had he ever let me this close to him? I took full advantage of either his weariness or lack of care to bat me away. I carefully kissed his smooth cheek, feeling the skin heat up from the meager touch. His shoulders slumped, body sinking into the porch more. My thin fingertips joined at his chest. **"I do _like_ you a lot, you know."** I spoke up, nerved by the silence. He's sighing again, sitting up straight, easing me off of him.

**"I've considered it."** He says, now fully standing, plodding off of the steps and toward his house.

**"And?"** I'm still on the porch floor, tempted to rise up. But I don't, because a heavy feeling is weighing me down.

**"You and I both have worse things to worry about." **Thresh readjusts his white collar, work boots making their mark on the ground. **"And we're friends. I think it's best if we just stay that way, you know?"** he gave a half smile and waved reassuringly, disappearing inside his house.

I didn't understand how much I actually liked him until he rejected me.

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c: I think that turned out okaaay. Review suckers, I wanna see if anybody else wants to know where this is going. I know I do 3


	2. Confessing

The second chapter; taking place after yesterday's events. Hahaha thank you EudoxiaPrade for the wake up call. I had a good, lengthy chunk of this chapter all typed up, but I hesitated for the longest time in completing it. This one's for you, enjoy~ (p.s.) forgive the crappily made up HG names... you'll see what I mean hahaha!) Warning! Contains smut. c=

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I'm dreaming.

_The cruel, dry ground in front of our houses disappear into broad fields of green grass, looking soft to the touch. An eleven year old's feet step lively across the cool, plush ground, picking up speed once the young eyes catch the outline of another._

_**"Thresh!"** I call out to the equally young and short male, skin still in contrast to my own, catching up to him with a tug on his sleeve. Thresh wore a small frown, unusual for eleven year old Thresh, who only worked a child's job and wasn't yet the main provider for his family._

_**"We're supposed to be watching **_**them**_**, you know."** I warn him about the mandatory viewings of the Hunger Games; at least certain segments are required to be watched. After the reaping, security goes slack (if only a little), which could warrant our getting away so easily._

_**"You saw the Reaping?"** he asks, staring past my shoulder, eyes seeming to look on forever past the meadow we found ourselves in._

_My thin, blond eyebrows perk up, moving my head to guarantee eye contact with him, concernedly. **"Of course. We all did."**_

_**"Janra volunteered for Iotie."** he reminded me solemnly, tone implying that it held some significant meaning. This year, a girl volunteered for her dear friend in our District. It was touching, a rare thing, a brave thing. Even siblings of the same sex were known to let their chosen family member walk to the stage and sympathized with them, but there was never enough pity to actually volunteer for them._

_**"Well, yeah; they're best friends."** I chirp, feeling my own little slice of pity pool at my abdomen at a subtle realization. **"And so are we."**_

_**"Right,"** Thresh quips quickly, dark eyes speckled with gold confront mine. **"So that's why I'm saying next year, and from then on... you **_**can't **_**volunteer for me."**_

_I'm taken aback slightly. We're only eleven; why is he worrying about something like this?_

_**"What? Why not?"** I hadn't any preconceptions to do such a thing anyway; it was so unlikely that he'd get chosen in the first place. We were only eleven!_

_**"Because there's nothing I can do about it if you volunteer for me. Then you'd be stuck dying just for me, and I'd be stuck here having to watch it."** he nodded his head toward another part of the meadow. Apparently Iotie had decided that watching the tributes parade wasn't for her either. She was sobbing, and I was trying to empathize, think of how it'd be to have Thresh die for me._

_**"Same here, then. If **_**I**_** get chosen... do **_**not**_** volunteer for me."** It wasn't because I loved him too much to watch him die for me. No, I was guilty that he'd thought of this matter, and I wasn't sure that under the right circumstances I'd do the same for him, even if he hadn't brought this up today. Why should he sacrifice for someone who wasn't as willing to give up everything for him?_

_**"Deal."** he said after a little bit of deliberation, taking my hand into his slightly stronger hand for a sealing of a pact between men. I wasn't a man. Even now, I'm as selfish as ever. Either because I don't want to go die myself, or I'll be lonely out on my porch if he goes._

I wake up to my father's murmured prodding to get up and out of bed. It'd been awhile since I've dreamed about childhood with Thresh, since those were more happy times, what with Thresh smiling everyday. Now that his mother, father and older brother have passed away, responsibility took it's toll on his features, both internally and externally. His body grew to be built for working. His face was usually masked in an effort not to reveal what dark thoughts about the Hunger Games that must've crept through his mind. I wish I could say that his facade cracked only when around me, but I'm sure his sister and grandma could bring out the best of him. It seems like nowadays, I give his mind nothing but trouble with all my headstrong 'feelings'.

I wash a little with the cool, basin water provided. Dressing seems like a chore in my slightly muggy, tired mind. By the time a small breakfast is ready I'm in a long sleeved, work shirt that's too small for my father to wear anymore, plus some work jeans that I've worn for as long as I can remember. My figure hasn't changed much since before I had to be a part of the public Reapings. Sure, I grew taller, but there's definitely not much meat in my bones. The soft, delicate features of my face don't help either.

If I ever got thrown into the Games, I'd be the first to be picked off.

Which is why, with the Reaping two weeks away, I can't let myself drown in fear and anxiety for myself. I'll never be able to work efficiently.

I talk bad about myself, but I do work hard; heck, I'm _required _to be worked to the bone. While I don't wield thick scythes or lift heavy crates and boxes, I'm running around doing various errands for everyone, picking up different types of vegetation for the harvest, mainly sticking to Thresh's side to do what he can't, like fit through narrow openings in machinery at the grain facility, or use nimble, gentle fingers to sort delicate plants without squishing or breaking them. I do my fair share.

That's why when the day's work is complete, I sluggishly pick myself up and walk home alongside Thresh. We haven't had the time or means to talk about the previous night before, about a week ago, and really, it doesn't look like it's made a difference. Thresh is still silent, stuck in the 'now' of things, grumbling once or twice about how he lacked in his performance that day. So self-abasing.

**"Hey, it's quilt night, right?"** I ask nonchalantly, trying to hold my head up higher; it didn't seem fair to look tired in front of Thresh when he'd been working with all of his strength. Most of the ladies in District 11 gathered at one of the larger houses, bringing with them dingy scraps of material and makeshift sewing kits to work on tedious projects for orphans and widows, or for the families of tributes. It happened once or twice a month, and Thresh's sister and grandmother were committed to it.

**"Yeah."** He affirms, lacking care in his eyes, empty lunch pail clanging at his side. I have to keep myself from frowning at his lackluster response.

**"Then~ since you'll be all alone, why don't you join me and my dad for dinner?"** Though Peacekeepers didn't encourage men grouping together during quilt night, or any other night for that matter, some joined each other for company.

Thresh looks down at me, the only way he can meet my gaze, and shrugs his shoulders. **"I wouldn't want to give you any trouble."**

I bump the side of my head into his shoulder amiably, walking close. **"Of course you're no trouble, stupid."** I feel a little guilty about the previous dream. Or maybe I just want him near me before anything unthinkable happens this summer with the Games.

On the way home we run into my dad, and I remind him of what tonight is, then ask - _imply_ - that Thresh is staying with _us_ for supper. There are no objections all around as I walk in between my two favorite people.

Shortly after we all arrive home, we try to wash the grime from the previous work, prepare a simple meal, talk over it like we usually do. Thresh eats slowly and quietly, my father and I do most, if not all the talking. He asks Thresh about work in the fields, his grandmother and sister, and _me_. Thresh isn't all smiles, but he answers each and every one of my father's questions with a patience that he must use often. I lack that redeeming quality, another difference to keep us further apart.

**"If only I had a daughter for you to marry,"** sighs my dad forlornly, Thresh calmly biting down into unforgiving bread. I stop what I'm doing and give the remorse my full attention.

Not missing a beat, Thresh replies coolly, **"I would never allow myself that. Getting married means having kids; more to worry about at each Reaping."** My father's sourness is recuperating into a playful grin.

**"Then, you can take Gill. It's a pain having to worry about him all the time, and he won't be giving you babies any time soon."** Dad's laughter fills the room, and Thresh actually joins in on it. I start eating again, swallow thickly, and pursue the silence.

**"Oh come on, that was pretty funny. And _ironic_."** sasses Thresh, chipper despite the long day of work. He and Dad got on a lot better than I had planned; at _my_ expense, no less. It was just he and I now, at his front porch, since I'd been so kind as to rush him out of the house after dinner. Since he isn't making any move to go inside, I groan exasperatedly and open the door, leading the way into a barely lit house. I have to rush to ignite some candles before the light from the windows disappear. Thresh is sauntering lazily behind me, air still light and happy. Despite what happened, I'm a little happy to see _Thresh_ happy.

**"It's not funny when you make a joke out of someone's feelings."** I mutter, lighting other candles in the house, stopping in the middle of a narrow hallway when Thresh blocks my way.

**"Don't be so sour. It wasn't like your dad knew anything about it,"** he tries to console me, handsome, gentle smile on his lips, but I whip my head in another direction to give him a good look at my displeased profile. He chuckles deeply, it sends a shiver through me, and I feel like I should leave the room. He's there, in front of me, a little too close for comfort, something mischievous is lighting up that smile now. I sheepishly turn my face towards his, eyebrows raising as he leans in closer, if only a little. I can smell something _fiery_ on his breath.

**"Did Dad give you _alcohol_?"** I seethe through gritted pearly whites, small button nose sniffing a little more, seeing for myself just how loose Thresh seemed, and at ease. How Dad even managed to procure the stuff is beyond me, so I wait for an answer.

**"He just gave me a few shots... n' told me I should enjoy being young. Pluuuuss~"** he flicks my nose for fun, **"it gets my mind off of stuff."** I frown a little, wondering when my dad had time to slip him the undoubtedly home made whiskey, but also realize that Thresh could be a lot worse. I've seen Dad _wasted_ after a good harvest.

He's teetering against the entryway of the kitchen now, and I decidedly hook a small but fairly strong arm around his waist to lead him upstairs. Thresh isn't too bad, just a little too close to me at sometimes, heated breath at my ear, arm flimsily hanging around my shoulder. My heart shouldn't be pounding out through my ribcage like this.

The dark skinned farm boy finally collapses onto the back of his bed, unceremoniously dragging me down with him; but I put up a good fight, wriggling in his grasp, kicking at the bed a little. I end up laughing then, because his fingers are pressing into the sensitive spots under my arms, and it takes a little time for the both of us to calm down and realize the positions we're in. We're laying on our sides, facing each other, my hands snapping out of his after struggling out of his tickling snare. His eyes are calm, tracing the features of my face as if debating something or another. I allow him time to silently argue with himself, before he leans in closer and pushes a pillow in between my head and the mattress. The smiles from the small skirmish dissolve, and I'm half tempted to take this precious time of intimacy further.

**"I'll be goin' now. Dad prolly needs more help than _you_ do."** But the look in his eyes isn't letting me go.

He shakes his head, gold speckled eyes resolute. **"No. _Stay_."** A hand of his snakes up to my hair, fingers threading through it, massaging the scalp. It feels good, and I close my eyes. I feel a warm pressure against my lips that makes my eyelids shoot wide open. I scramble away from the kiss he initiated, sitting upright, hand cupping my lips as if he plans to steal them again.

**"You little-!"** I squeak, flung back to the bed by my wrist, pinned down by his body weight alone. There isn't much room to struggle when we're hip to hip and chest to chest. He keeps most of the weight off me with his knees planted at the bed between my legs, fingers massaging and tugging at both of my ears while he dominates me with his lips. I manage to let a whimper escape from otherwise occupied lips, struggling to catch up and kiss him back.

It's amazing what a little bit of alcohol can do.

I'm willing, I don't fight it anymore, whatever resolve that was stopping before is melting away with each tender kiss. I push up at his chest gently to get some separation, only to start fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. His kisses are more hungry now, but cautious, exploring his first kiss, though coming off as experienced. My fingers fan out across his dark chest, spreading to touch the build he'd acquired over the years, panting quietly into his mouth, eyes fluttering close when he decides to move his lips across my jawline. I try to calm down, slow my breathing, but my hands won't stop moving, I have to feel him out before he recognizes his lapse of judgement and pushes himself away.

The tingling sensation his lips bring is now at my neck, and I bite down on my lip, hands removing themselves to cradle his head as he kisses lower. My toes curl, I become instantaneously self conscious once my shirt's removed. Thresh exasperatedly rids himself of his own shirt, since I lacked the thought process to do it myself.

**"Th-Thresh..."** I murmur near his ear, sitting myself up a little, feeling his lips at my naval, getting goosebumps around where he's kissing. The very boy I've been calling to suddenly looks up to me then, smoldering me in his vibrant gaze, making me feel both elated and disgusted with myself at the same time. He's drunk, and I'm taking advantage of him.

Thresh sighs a little at one side of my hips, sending chills from then on up, **"I'm not drunk, Gilliad."** He informs as if reading my mind, his thumb dipping below the waistline of my work jeans. It's true; he looks pretty sober to me. It may just be the impossibility of it all, of him wanting _me_ that's making me unconvinced. He grunts and shifts his whole body, sitting up next to me. I'm glad that he's slowed down a little, because this allows my heart rate to decline, and I can keep my nervous, awkward, and small hands from shaking. **"I don't know,"** he mumbles, pausing when he feels me lean against him. I can't help it; we're both topless, it's cold, and his body is _always_ warm. He continues, sounding a little more sure, **"It's almost our last Reaping. I mean, the last one _we'll_ ever have to go to, since we turn eighteen and all. It's almost like... I won't have to worry about _losing_ you anymore. That hope makes me want to do this with you. Tonight."**

My eyes seemed to tremble a little bit, but I suddenly narrowed them at him, throwing myself back onto the bed, huffing and puffing. **"_You and I both have worse things to worry about. _****_And we're friends. I think it's best if we just stay that way, you know?_"** I tried my best Thresh imitation, but he only laughs. I scowl into the pillow, sounding a little hurt, and Thresh smoothly encircles me with both warm arms, laying onto the bed beside me.

**"There are so many things that could happen at this Reaping,"** he explains, hints of torment leaking out through each word, **"I could get picked. My sister could. _You _could. If I go, the games would either change or kill me. They'd kill my sister. They'd definitely kill _you_."** I laugh quietly into the pillow, just from hearing his cold hypothesis out loud. Of course though, _he_ doesn't think it's funny.

But I don't let him say or think anymore. I don't bring up the fact that neither of us are totally safe yet, and there should be no reason for the sudden sense of security he's feeling. I instead prop myself on my elbows and capture his lips in a needy, bold kiss, cheeks going red once more, my little heart flapping it's wings, ready to pound out of it's cage.

I'm on my back again, this time there's breathing room for the both of us, his hips delving in every once in awhile to grind down against me. My hips are more than willing to comply, bucking up against him, jeans slinking down past my knees with Thresh's help. A coarse hand suddenly finds me through my boxers, and my eyes water from the intensity and pleasure his hand's giving me; it feels all too real. I tremble and hold onto his shoulders weakly, head lifting to watch Thresh's hand work me like a broom handle, his lips and teeth nipping at my ear, my breath unsteady. We're sitting upright again, since I just _have_ to watch everything he's doing to me, and I shakily crawl into his lap, unpopping the button of his trousers, tugging the zipper down, reaching automatically for more of his warmth. He groans huskily into my neck once I take a hold of him from underneath his briefs, and I literally fumble with his member from nervousness and anxiousness and all of the above. I scale every inch of his dick with my finger tips and palm, marveling at his larger size, tracing the curve of his tip, breath hitching as I form a fist around him and pump my hand up and down, using my own experience, in jerking, on him. His hand loosens from my own length but I don't care, I don't mind seeing him lose himself in my touch. I don't mind making him think of nothing else but me, and what I can do to him.

**"D-Daamn, _Gill_."** He even made my stupid _nickname_ come off as sexy with that deep voice of his. Thresh then wound his fingers into my short, blond locks and tugged my head back. I shuddered wantonly in response, hands removing themselves from down below to glide down past his shoulders and back, lips bumping against his, rubbing my own need into his. He complies mercifully and takes us both in his hand, squeezing us together, creating delicious amounts of friction. We're letting out groans and sounds that would never escape our usually clean mouths. My back arches, my hips meet every pump of his hand, eyes slanted open carefully to take in every sight. I don't have to close my eyes and pretend, like whenever I'm alone. He's here, in front of me, murmuring sultry obscenities, that would indefinitely make his grandmother _faint_, into my ear while he gives me the best, roughest, neediest hand job I've ever received.

**"Nnngh~"** I mewl pleasantly, lips squirming shut, breathing raggedly through my nose. That scrunched up face of mine means I'm close, and it looks like Thresh can sense it. A free hand of his suddenly feels it's way around my thin hips, gropes it's way down to my ass cheek, and takes a handful while forcing me harder against him. My hands are now kneading at his neck, grasping for his face, trying to crash his lips into mine as I finish long and hard, his 'handy-work' too much for me. I stain his dark abdomen with my white seed, and in return get a bit of _his_ on my chest. It's an amazing feeling to come down from such a high and be kissing at the same time. Sure, it's a sloppy kiss, and I'm sure I'm missing most of the time, but it feels so...

We're both laying in the bed now, both on our backs, exhilarated, refreshed, and too numb in the mind to process all the feelings rushing through.

So, I just go ahead and blurt it out like an idiot. **"I lo-love you. Thresh. Mister Thresh."** I probably didn't even mean it. I mean, my dick could've been doing all the talking.

My eyes flicker over to his profile to see him holding back happy laughter. He doesn't know what a crook I am. How selfishly I think. Even if Thresh would accept me, I might not even want to commit after all this stupid chasing. But I told him whatever it seemed like I was feeling then. Arms encircled me once more and I frowned, a little taken aback that he hadn't answered. Just right before I was about to speak, he butted in,

**"After the Reaping. I'll tell you _exactly_ what I think about you _after_ the Reaping. When you're safe, and in my arms."**

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Yaaaay! Sorry for the long wait, this chappie was way overdue. Let me know if you liked it and want more! I'm also still debating on whether or not to fully use the power of AU in letting Thresh survive the games. That would be way cute, but it seems kind of fun writing a tragic fic. We'll see, I'm looking forward to your input. Hopefully the next chapter will be about the Reaping, and we'll really get things going. Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!


	3. Regretting

Don't you just love fanfiction? c: such a cool idea. Anyway, here's chappie four without further ado, hope you like it! ((p.s., don't care about the little inaccuracies my fic produces. Like Thresh's clothes on the Reaping or who it was that drew the names or whatever. I won't stray from the story, so don't pick on me c; ))

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Did that really happen yesterday? Was my childhood friend _really_ on top of me, just as desperate for release as I was? I really had a hard time believing it, but my brain totally memorized each and every moment, every second before, during and _after_.

Post sexy time, of _course_ I was a happy camper.

We did what came naturally to us first timers, which was just hug and cuddle under the sheets, though we had no right to act so lovey dovey. Pretty sure if Thresh wasn't still riding the high, he'd punch me in the shoulder for being so close. But I enjoyed his warmth and the way his skin faintly glowed.

Until his grandma and sister showed up.

**"I'm sorry!"** hissed Thresh to me, his back weighing his bedroom door down against his sister's curiosity, **"You can creep out the window and down the tree; you'll be _fine_!"** I was scrambling to get dressed, more disoriented than pissy, all too happy to leak out of the house without arousing any suspicion. Like I needed Thresh's grandmother to dislike me, as old-fashioned as she was.

I flashed a little wry smirk over to Thresh as I opened the window, and seeing those dark cheeks light up with a bit of pink was all it took for me to disappear from the house, laughing quietly. I used what agility my smaller body provided to climb down the tree, work shirt buttoned up haphazardly, jeans wrinkled, fly down. My hair looked a mess, and my smile was goofy, but I was truly happy. I _liked_ him, though I was unaware of exactly how _much_ I liked him, and we just got physical, which is more than I could ever hope for.

I sneak past the living room, my dad's busy snoring in a busted old chair, probably waited for me forever. I tiptoe quickly to my room to retire to bed, maybe even _attempt_ to wrap my head around what happened.

I ended up staying awake most of the night.

Of course I worked tomorrow, but I had a new drive besides just waiting for the Reaping to pass. I'd get to hear Thresh's real feelings for me, and with those I could get a feel for what I was getting myself into. In my excitement, I almost forgot myself and lost track of the time. One week until the Reaping.

_One week_.

It was almost like ritual for me and my dad not to talk about it, except in passing, especially so with Thresh. I saw him spacing out during work more than usual, looking worried even. With those more than few glances in my direction, I could tell that he wasn't worried for himself. I'd give him a little encouraging words or give him a little touch on the small of his back, in an effort to comfort him. I knew I could never really ease his spirit _until_ the Reapings were over and done with.

Sometimes Thresh's Hunger Games worrying got so bad that I was scared he'd have a panic attack. That's when I'd take him aside after work to try and sneak off with him to a little place of seclusion; usually around _Hunger Games_ season there'd be a butt-load of security around District 11. Thankfully, however, it was now only three days till the Reapings, and they hadn't yet shipped in more Peacekeepers. I led him by the hand from our houses, since we decided to make a pit stop at home for jackets, the summer nights could be a little cool. His hand was warm and just a tad bit coarse around mine, and it felt good holding it. We hadn't shared many other affections after those few days ago, so it was nice to be a bit closer. Just a bit.

**"Huh. Almost forgot about this place."** Thresh comments, scratching the back of his shaved head with his free hand, the other still hanging onto mine. It's steadily darkening outside, but we can maneuver our way around through a barely covered, enclosed area with tall, unkempt blades of grass that we used to play around as children. Sometimes when I just happen to walk by I see a newer generation of kids playing there too.

This time, though, we're alone, and I let go of Thresh's hand to stretch my palms up toward the growing dimness of the sky. Thresh pops a squat on the grass unceremoniously, leaning on the heels of his hands, arching his back ever so slightly. I follow suit, sitting criss-cross, plucking a blade to feel between my fingers before muttering happily, **"This is _still_ my favorite place in Panem."**

**"How do you even know? We've never been outside of District 11."** bluntly remarks Thresh, something that I can't help but laugh at. He scoots closer to me, and I smile from the sickeningly-sweetness. My heart beats a little faster.

**"Those were the days,"** started Thresh with a small, nostalgic sigh, playing with my golden hair only illuminated by the pink and orange of the setting sun, **"We used to run around here and literally watch the grass grow. We talked a lot too, huh? We were pretty deep for our age."** the last part was meant to be a little joke, but I only laughed lightly. Our conversations here mostly involved talk of the Hunger Games, something that required some form of maturation.

**"We made a few promises, too,"** I added, flickering curious eyes up at him, closing my eyes when he started to tug lightly on my hair. It felt good when he played with it.

I can't see him, but his voice sounds thoughtful, **"I remember."** His hand reaches the back of my neck, on which his thumb starts drawing small circles. I relax, if only because his little touches feel good. Thresh senses this, picking up my gradually dipping chin in his careful fingers to guide my lips to his. I expected something with more firmness, but his kisses are surprisingly soft. Getting a little impatient, I lift up my head and move my lips with more fervor, hands gripping tightly on his rolled up sleeve, feeling his fingers curve around my jawline and swipe gently under my chin.** "Mm-mmnn!"** My sensitivity makes me twitch, feeling his hands groove their way down my neck and past my shoulders, to where they're groping at my chest. It feels a little weird, I have to open my eyes for a second to watch him try and work with a flat chest, but other then that being touched is good. I can even feel myself getting a reaction from it, though it was a little embarrassing being treated like a girl.

His thumbs pressed down on my nipples and a finger or two soon joined to tweak them. **"Jeez, wouldja cut it out already? They're already _hard_."** I blurted out with a small, embarrassed cough, though all this attention felt good. My cheeks were getting rosy, my eyes seemed to float around now that the kiss was broken, and I was feeling a little paranoid that someone might catch us. Of course, that was also an exciting aspect.

I fell back against the plush grass and he leaned over me, knees in between my thin legs that wrapped around his waist. We kissed again, for a short while, but I can tell that little by little he was losing his train of thought and couldn't concentrate on kissing anymore. Even though _he's_ the one who initiated it, _I_ was the one getting all excited.

The color in my cheeks hadn't dimmed, but the flame did. I still had my legs around him when he sat straight up on his knees, seeing the sun slip past the horizon, seeing the way the vast starlight was starting to bud in the skies. Then he said all at once, **"I want to make another promise."**

I let his waist go, slinking back and propping myself onto my elbows, looking up above then back at Thresh with a kind, wry smile. **"Sure thing. What is it?"**

**"If I get chosen, then I get chosen. But if _you_ get chosen, I get to volunteer for you. And there's nothing you can do about it."**

I laugh even though it's not meant to be a joke, and it dies off before I reveal any anxiousness. The sentimentality of it is sweet; no one volunteers for anybody, even if they're related by blood. I can still remember the one year where that one girl volunteered for another.

She ended up _dying._

**"Whatever helps you sleep at night..."** I trailed off with a perfect grin, sitting upright and leaning over to kiss Thresh's nose. I stood up then, sizing up that leaving for home now would probably be best. Who knew when the new shipment of peacekeepers would come for the games?

**"Don't worry about me, Thresh. I'm _not_ going to get picked."**

~Booboobeedoop!~

**"Gill... _Gilliad_... It's time to wake up."** strong hands wrest me from a deep slumber, but I sat up right away, rubbing at the corner of my eyes. Waking up easily was a helpful trait, but today I think my waking up was more out of anxiousness for the day. Today was the Reaping, after all.

Dad had prepared a bath and everything, a clean, white button up shirt and slacks waiting for me on the kitchen table. I scrubbed down, feeling the worry bubble up. Usually Dad would ramble on and on about meaningless things for a bit of comfort, but today he was uncannily quiet as he dressed himself. I rinsed and dried off, then took the clothes from the table and started dressing, calming myself down. This would be the last year I'd be in those glass containers with all the other teen's names. I was more concentrated and afraid for myself than anything;the thought of Thresh being chosen was too much to think about. Maybe if I convinced myself that I was selfish and only worried about my own hide, then I wouldn't have to worry about _his_.

Or something noble sounding like that. Like every other kid out there, I just really didn't want to be picked.

Thresh was outside of our house, standing tall and proud in his faded blue dress shirt, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with a pair of brown slacks and a pair of suspenders. I bumped shoulders with him and stuffed my hands in my pocket, commenting on the pristine way he looked. Thresh complied with a, **"You're not too bad yourself."**

It was all small talk. Our footsteps grew gradually slower as we neared town square. My father, Thresh's sister and his grandmother walked to our sides, letting my best friend and I take comfort in each other. My hand clutched at my shirt desperately, and I didn't let go until we were separated from the adults to get our fingers pricked.

I couldn't feel the miniature needle or the hard press of my finger to the according cell block on the paper. It wasn't _anything_ compared to...

Once my turn was finished, I whipped my head around to find Thresh. We always stood together, since there was no particular order. He'd just gotten done with his signing in, and patted me on the back to usher us into a place. It felt like he was in a hurry, probably to get this over with. We stood then, side by side, and I looked over to see my father cast his worried gaze at me. I broke out into a small, reassuring smile, but he didn't by that. Seconds passed and my smile wormed its way off my face. I looked down, and made the fingers of my right hand trickle down Thresh's strong forearm. He suddenly looked over to see what I was doing, until my hand met his and held on tightly. I looked back up to see his expression, and he was fighting back emotions too. Either for me, or he was too proud to let the Capitol and all their cameras catch him in a moment of weakness. He gave a squeeze to my hand, and wordlessly dropped it, stepping only a few inches away. I nodded to myself, intertwining my fingers together at my stomach, exhaling and inhaling deeply, looking downward.

Things happened agonizingly slow after that. A flashy looking man welcomed us all to the 74th Annual Hunger Games. I don't want to even _begin_ describing this man, since it would probably take longer than the actual Reaping. Just know that his favorite color was green, obvious from the bright green hair, emerald lips, complex green outfit, and jade heels. It was a wonder that this was actually a _man_, his gender only distinguishable by the deep tone of his voice.

**"Let us watch the very film that reminds us of the unification of our country!"** And that was the way that the monologue of the Hunger Games was introduced. Scenes flashed by, President Snow's voice ensued, my nose wrinkled in disgust. In my head I recited that damned video because it was the only thing keeping me from shouting, 'COME ON ALREADY!'. Thresh saw the look on my face and he started to chuckle quietly. I narrowed my eyes and bumped his shoulder affectionately. He did the same.

**"Wonderful!"** The Capitol's pig clapped his hands on the stage, being one of the only ones to clap. I wondered if _I_ grew up in the Capitol; would I be dressed just as crazily as him and actually _like_ it? **"Now, for what we've _all_ been waiting for!"** I could've sworn he winked at me. Oh shit. **"Ladies first, of course."** His shoes clacked their way across the stage toward the first container. With a flick of his wrist he dove down into the folded papers with gusto. I wish he'd gotten a huge paper cut that would've put off the Reaping for just a little longer. Suddenly, I wasn't so eager to get this over with.

A name was called, and Thresh's body visibly straightened with sudden tension. My eyes searched for the tribute, the name yet to register inside my mind.

_Rue_.

I'm pretty sure _everyone_ watched in horror when Rue silently stalked toward and up the stage. For a twelve year old she certainly put up a quiet, emotionless front. There were younger children crying from some point in the town square, and I could only assume it was her little brothers and sisters. My breathing became short again, and dread was heavy in the air. After the man in green congratulated her, he stepped to the right, sticking his hand into the male's jar this time.

_'Please, please, pleaseplease... Anybody but him. Not him.'_

My prayer was such a joke, because everyone knows that Thresh was indeed chosen as the male representative of District 11 that day.

There was the awkward moment of silence that Thresh stood there simply, eyes concentrated at the front. His gruff hands were clenched, and he didn't dare cast his eyes to his grandmother or sister for some silent plea. He _especially_ didn't look at me.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away, and nearly took a step forward when he suddenly stepped out of line and headed for the stage. _'Now's your time to volunteer, don't let him go! What kind of coward watches his best friend go to die and does nothing? Damn it!'_

I stayed silent, and for that I'll never forgive myself.

Thresh walks there with the confidence and pride that you could find in a lion. The announcer welcomes the dark skinned, masculine male to the stage and spews forth some airily comments meant to engage him. I look down when he doesn't give the other the honor of a reply, my trembling hands slithering to hold my elbows, shock sending convulsions down my spine. This can't be happening. What happened to the odds being in our favor? Whywas _he_ chosen?

The Reaping is over and done with, and people are disassembling. I look up to the stage to see both Rue and Thresh being guarded by Peacekeepers into the city hall building. I quickly rush toward the side of the building, having rushed past the securities' eyes, before cracking open a window near ground level.  
There were voices on the second floor, so I sprinted upstairs, hiding in a door hinge watching Thresh's small family enter a certain room. The doors are closed and guards stand in front.

It was hard to calm myself down and keep from blowing my cover. I bit the knuckles of the back of my hand to stifle any angry cries until I drew blood. Then, the sound of the door opening and closed was to be heard. Peeking from the structure, I could catch the sight of the very same Peacekeepers leading out the old woman and girl. I took my opportunity while I could.

When I opened the door, Thresh was sitting there on a plush couch, looking immovable, frown cast as he thought about... well, I really couldn't imagine what he was thinking about. But when his eyes looked straight into mine, I suddenly had the idea of what he felt. He stood up and I rushed over, bodies colliding with a soft thud, arms reaching around his back, fingers clutching at his shirt in a tight, breathless hold. He squeezed me against him, and the warm, strong contact gave me conviction to hold back any thought of weeping on his shoulder. I wouldn't want that from Thresh, if _I_ were in his shoes...

**"I know... I'm the last person you'd wanna see. I... didn't v-voluntee-"** Thresh wrest us apart, shaking his head vehemently, hands cupping my face and bringing it to his own. The guilt and shame pulled me to mesh my lips against his hard, hands slipping from his shirt to rest at his hips, holding tightly. Would I ever feel this again? This excruciating pain that gets worse with each kiss, with each of his promises to return?

**"Thresh... _Thresh_... fuck d-dude, what are you going to _do_?!"** I sounded lame, and sobs were catching in my throat making me hiccup in small squeaks. He held me tight once more, cradling my head in his hands, other arm wound around my small back. **"'_Dude_'? You're starting to sound like you live in the Capitol. And you know what I'm going to do. Don't you dare pretend like this is going to have any effect on you."** His voice cracked, but I didn't question it, neither did I question the small sniffle he gave. He was doing a better job than I ever could've done in putting on a brave front. If I'd have been chosen, I would've been crying like a little baby.

**"I love you, Thresh."** I garbled into his shoulder, stomach feeling sick, eyes closed tight, inhaling his smell. **"Please come back, for your granny and... and your sis."** Not for me. Don't come back for me; there's no way I deserve it. Thresh nodded against me, and simultaneously the door struck open. The Peacekeepers, alarmed, charged for me. I had to be wrestled off of Thresh, and because of my struggling, _tazed_. I squirmed on the ground, trying to push myself up off of the pristine room's floor, constantly being berated back down while Thresh was already being guided out of the room, eventually the building, and off towards the train station.

**"I volunn... _mnnnghm... _I volunteer!"** I cried out, trying to worm my way from their grasps, adrenaline and fear giving me strength that required at least a few more Peacekeepers. **"Let me go! I want to go _for_ him! _Please_-"**

It's too late. No matter how many times I shout 'I volunteer', no one listens to me. It's too late. One strike of the back of a gun to my head and I'm out, vision fading away, catching bits and pieces of the commotion around me in the building.

He never told me what he really felt for me.

* * *

I hope I conveyed the atmosphere and emotion and made you lil' peeps _feel_ something. If not, at least I tried! Thanks for your continued support, review and tell me what you liked/didn't like!


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